


Bastard's Sister, Bastard's Wife

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 02:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7490025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa waits to hear word during the Battle of the Bastards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bastard's Sister, Bastard's Wife

When the bards sing about this day, she will always be remembered in the context of someone else. Bastard’s sister, bastard’s wife- it makes no difference, because she will never be just Sansa in the songs.

Sansa does what she has always done as she waits, occupying herself with her embroidery. Her fingers push a needle through linen, the grey thread the same shade as her dead dire wolf. She is with the red woman now, as well as Lyanna Mormont, two wilding spear wives, and Ghost.

Melisandre stares blankly at the wall of the tent, her eyes eerily focused on everything and nothing all at once. Lyanna also sits with embroidery, but she has barely sewn three stitches. She had instead animatedly peppered one of the willings with questions, until she was brushed off. Sansa smiles at this, for Lyanna reminds her very much of Arya in this moment.

The two warrior women did not look pleased to have this assignment, guarding the women, but Sansa had overheard Tormund Giantsbane tell them, as she stood in the quiet of the shadows, that her protection was important. 

“Jon can’t return to being a shade of the night,” he had said, voice more serious than she had ever heard it in their moon’s turn together. Sansa had heard that Jon had been nothing but somber, dark stares before she came to the Wall. Without his sister live and well, it seemed, he would never not brood again.

Lyanna fiddles with her hemline, obviously bored with their current situation.

“I believe you and my sister would get along quite well, Lady Mormont.” Sansa breaches the unbearable quiet. “She was a warrior too, or she wanted to be, much like your mother and sister. Jon even had a sword made for her.”

“Do you believe she’s still alive?” Lyanna asks with that harsh voice of hers. Sansa knows that’s just how the girl is, that she means no harm, but still the words sting.

“My sworn shield said she saw her in the Vale.” Sansa threads a few stitches through the cloth before continuing. “If any woman can survive alone in Westeros, it’s Arya.”

When she laughs at that, the mirth manages to faintly reach her eyes. But she stops when Ghost begins to whine at her feet. Sansa sets aside her embroidery and runs a hand through his thick fur. “What is it, Ghost?”

“Who will rule, when this is over?” Lyanna studies Sansa carefully with her dark eyes.

“Rickon is Lord of Winterfell by right, if we cannot find Bran. And even then, he’s Bran’s heir.” Sansa meets Lyanna’s gaze. “Jon and I will rule for him, or perhaps head a King’s Council, until he is of age.”

“Not you?”

“I just want to be home, my lady.” Sansa sighs. Ghost will not stop his whining, or his restless pacing. He bolts out the flaps of the tent, startling the spearwives. Outside, he howls.

Sansa rushes past her guards to see what troubles him so. They follow her out, brows knotted and hands on their spears. Nothing is outside their field of tents, but she hears it, faintly in the distance. Trumpets ring out for all to hear.  _It can’t be_ , she thinks, clutching her hand to her chest.

On the horizon, the Arryn banners fly in the wind. 

“Get behind me.” One of the wildings growls.

Sansa waves her off, rushing for the horse tied nearby. Jon had insisted they prepare for the worst, if their small band would have to flee. “Their friends from the south, I swear it.”

She glances back at them, after she has mounted. “Watch after Lady Mormont. Ghost, remain here.”

He growls, low and dark, but stalks back to where Lyanna stands in the tent’s opening. 

Sansa urges her horse into a gallop, speeding towards the waiting forces. She had not thought they would arrive in time, but her hopes have been answered. This is the force they would need, and perhaps it will turn the tide of whatever rages outside Winterfell’s walls.

Littlefinger lets her lead the charge, at the front of the Knights of the Vale as they charge at her brother’s enemies. And finally, Sansa Stark becomes her own song.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out and fangirl about Jonsa and other ASOIAF/GOT goodness with me on [tumblr](http://jonsa-in-the-north.tumblr.com).


End file.
